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His hand came up to cover hers, pressing it close. Through the fine wool fabric of his coat, through the solid muscle of his brawny chest, she could feel the beat of his heart, strong and true. Darkness still lurked in his gaze, though it seemed to lift as he stared down at her.
Time slowed as the breeze softly rustled through the trees. A sparrow flitted overhead, returning to its nest in the apple tree. The air, scented with heather and the faint tang of smoke from the vicarage chimney, was so lovely and crisp she could almost taste it. Everything about the moment seemed as clear as a polished windowpane, imprinted on her mind’s eye so she would never forget it.
As she gazed up at Grant, a soothing peace drifted over her, settling deep in her bones. When he slowly bent his head, her fingers curled into his coat. Her lips parted, his mouth a mere whisper away. Finally,finally, he was going to—
“Hallo in the vicarage,” called a loud voice.
They jerked apart, Kathleen stepping on the broom at her feet. Grant lashed out a hand to steady her. When she glanced up at him, she had to swallow a semi-hysterical giggle at the incredibly annoyed look on his face.
After blowing out an exasperated breath, he turned and stepped onto the walkway, partially shielding her.
“Can I help you?” he curtly asked.
“I hope so, old man,” came the hearty reply.
After taking a breath to steady her nerves, Kathleen moved around Grant and saw a tall, broad-shouldered man regarding them with a grin barely concealed by an impressive mustache. His beaver hat was tipped at a jaunty angle over curly brown hair, and his many-caped driving coat was negligently pushed back by one hand propped on his hip.
His grin broadened as he took in Kathleen. “Well, and how doyoudo, good lass?”
The casual insolence set her teeth on edge. “As the gentleman said, can we help you?”
“I’m looking for the vicar. Do you know if he’s in?”
“Not at the moment,” Grant replied. “Who wants to know?”
The man swept off his hat and gave an extravagant bow. “I’m his brother. Captain John Brown, at your service.” He winked at Kathleen. “Especially yours, my dear lady.”
Chapter Sixteen
Grant jumped the bay gelding over the low wall that separated Lochnagar lands from the road to Dunlaggan. He’d spent the morning riding through the more remote corners of the estate, where the rugged countryside of gorse-filled ravines, hidden glens, and deep caves all held potential boltholes for criminals. So far, he had found nothing. If the gang had a camp near the hamlet, they were doing a damn fine job of hiding it.
He was quite sure no locals were involved, since most were gainfully employed and intensely loyal to Clan Chattan. That was Sabrina’s clan, to which most people in the area were related by blood or marriage. He couldn’t imagine any of them creating such havoc in their own community.
A bit of smuggling was one thing, as recent history had shown. But holding up travelers, stealing cattle, and breaking into churches? Those were entirely different. The villains were professional thieves, and dangerous ones at that.
Why had they chosen this part of the Highlands for their mark? While Dunlaggan was both rural and remote, making it easier pickings, those pickings weren’t exactly generous. Grant wondered if the gang was always on the move, cleaning out one spot before moving on to the next. He’d already written to Nick for help. No one had more contacts throughout Scotland than his big brother, so Grant was hopeful that some piece of information might result.
Still, it was a faint hope. At the moment, he had only questions that kept him up half the night.
Thoughts of his Irish colleen were keeping him up at night, too—and in a state of sexual frustration. That day in the garden, he’d come within a whisper of finally taking her lush lips. Kathleen had been more than willing until the vicar’s obnoxious brother had rudely interrupted them. Although their conversation with Captain Brown had been short, it had thoroughly embarrassed Kathleen and destroyed any chance for a romantic interlude.
Even more frustrating, the lass had gone skittish, retreating behind a courteous and even shy façade or avoiding him entirely. Since Kathleen was anything but shy, he could only assume she was having second thoughts about thegarden incident, as he’d come to think of it.
Not that there had been any opportunities forfirstthoughts. But that she was very conscious of him was evident when they encountered each other. Her lovely Irish complexion would fire up, setting her whimsical freckles aglow. She would then either flee the room or engage in a dementedly bright conversation about nothing at all—usually with Sabrina or Jeannie, if they happened to be there.
Of course, what Grant was hoping for, aside from the opportunity to discover every freckle on her sweet body, was still a bit of a mystery to him.
Solve one mystery at a time, lad.
Keeping everyone safe by ending the crime spree was his first order of business. Once he’d accomplished that, he could turn his mind to Kathleen and what the future might hold for them.
He trotted the bay along Dunlaggan’s single street, heading for the Deer and Hound. Tracking down elusive villains was thirsty work, and the hamlet’s only pub was the best place for gossip and getting a feel for how the locals were doing. Graeme and Sabrina were greatly worried about that. Sabrina’s father had been an absentee landlord who cared not a farthing for his northern estate. Still recovering from those years of neglect, the locals were rattled by recent events and expected their lord and lady to solve the problem sooner rather than later.
That did rather put the pressure on. Graeme and his bride had moved heaven and earth to bring Lochnagar and Dunlaggan back to life, and under no circumstances would Grant allow a gang of scaly bastards to damage or even destroy all their hard work.
Mr. Harrison, the local butcher, emerged from his shop and began sweeping the stoop. Grant nodded in greeting.
“Guid day to ye, Sir Graeme,” the butcher called.
